


What We Used To Be

by justdreaming88



Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-16
Updated: 2012-04-16
Packaged: 2017-11-03 19:21:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/384958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justdreaming88/pseuds/justdreaming88
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i> It was decorated with surfing and wave pictures but it was the contents that made his chest feel tight and his breath catch.</i><br/>Set after <i>Lost</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	What We Used To Be

He was unpacking his boxes at random now, his earlier systematic method having been abandoned. Three beers had clouded his thoughts and the fourth had distracted him. Dom opened boxes with labels that looked interesting. He carefully cut open the tape of the next, opened the box and was surprised by what he saw. The decorated box inside the normal brown came as a shock. He'd forgotten about it or just pushed it to the back of his mind. Dom carefully prised the lid off and sighed—it was his Billy box. It was decorated with surfing and wave pictures but it was the contents that made his chest feel tight and his breath catch.

Dom took a swig of beer then returned the bottle to the floor before starting to pull things out of the box. The first thing he found was a ratty, paint splattered t-shirt with a fraying hem. A relic from his first house in LA and the night they'd spent painting parts of it. It had been left behind accidentally and Dom had never sent it back. There were also photos, candid and arty depending on who had been behind the camera. He flicked through the photos, smiling at the memories. At the very bottom of the pile Dom found a picture that Orlando had taken after surfing one day. He and Billy stood leaning against the latter's car, clearly talking about something, their gazes locked and a measure of intimacy and understanding radiating from their expressions. For a moment, as Dom stared at the photo, he was back there on that warm New Zealand day in January the sun warm on his back, fingers itching to play with Billy’s sea-salt spiked hair, feeling the warmth of the other man's body so close to his and being dimly aware of Orlando off to the side, snapping a photo, as they conversed. For a moment he wasn’t sitting on the floor of his new LA house, mind fuzzy with beer and home crowded with boxes; he was back in NZ tired after a day of surfing but happy and with his friends.

Dom tore his gaze away from the photo, adding it to the pile of others and stood up wobbly, stretching as he went. He checked his watch: 1 a.m. He did a quick bit of maths before hurrying through the house, spurred into action. He found the phone after only a few moments of searching and dialled the number from memory, automatically adding the international dialling code at the start. He waited as the call connected and the phone rang, in his mind’s eye he pictured Billy walking through his house and picking up the phone.

"Hello, Billy speaking," the voice emanated from the other end.

"Bills, it's me." Dom replied, head now clear, wobbliness gone, joy filling him at the sound of the other voice at the end of the phone line.

The End


End file.
